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Lady Bird

Cast: Saoirse Ronan, Odeya Rush, Danielle Macdonald, Jordan Rodrigues, Laurie Metcalf, Kathryn Newton, Jake McDorman, Timothee Chalamet

trailer for Lady Bird, directed by Greta Gerwig, screenplay by Greta Gerwig (2017)
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Oh Jordan River Lord Say Lay My Burdens On Thee

Oh Jordan River Lord Say Lay My Burdens On Thee

Oh Jordan River down yonder where the
Black sea sings,
Oh Jordan River, cry loud with me
Oh Jordan River the blood in my hand
Oh Jordan River, the black sea sings

Oh Jordan River, lord come for me
Oh Jordan River lord say I be free
Oh Jordan River, lord protect me
Negroes at the river wanna be free

Oh Jordan river put chains on me
Oh Jordan river take my baby from me
Oh Jordan river lord waits for me
Going to break the chains
Down yonder by the black sea

Oh Jordan river I sing to thee
Oh Jordan River the master say
Nigger’s got to serve them
But lord say I free
Oh Jordan River, I'm bound to lord savior,
walking in the black river,
Oh Jordan River saves me.
I‘sa a free mind train
I set me free
Oh Jordan River
Lord say I Free

poem by Jacqueline Amos
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Sweet Mary - Sweet Laurie

Mary, born a little pre
had some trouble breathing,
also, nightly she would pee
and she screamed while teething.

In the private school she met
Laurie from Chicago
Laurie wore a silver net
loved old Doc Tshivago.

Laurie was a trifle sweet
had no use for men,
got just formula to eat
though she rated ten.

Missed the milk that Nature makes,
which was one good reason
to demand those frequent breaks
during hunting season.

Meaning, puberty and all
girls are searching daily
Laurie who was rather tall
laughed and smiled so gaily,

when they had the prom that year
Laurie tasted Mary,
and she dumped, (for good I fear)
Polish boy named Harry.

Harry had, (he was quite mad)
followed Mary over,
Harry's uncle told the lad
(was an Aussie drover) ,

get your hands on any bird
never pay no mind,
what she says, and take my word
grab her from behind.

Harry tried and was rebuffed
Laurie was to smitten!
Harry pouted, Harry huffed
from the lovebug bitten.

In the flat on 69
girls were reminiscin'
after some cheap Gallo wine
they were gently kissin'.

[...] Read more

poem by Herbert Nehrlich
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The Poet Laurie Ate

Laurie was my dog
And he loved to bite
He wasn't very clever
And not at all bright.
He didn't like my friend
A mad poet called Fred
One day Laurie bit him
On the back of his head.
Fred wasn't at all pleased
And bit my dog back
So Laurie retaliated
And went on the attack.
They wrestled on the floor
And Fred got bit a lot
So to get my dog off him
I hit the mutt with a flowerpot.
But Laurie was very tough
And the pot bounced off his head
Then poor old Fred stopped moving
In fact he was now Dead.
I didn't know what to do
The poet didn't deserve to die
Looking down at Laurie
I asked this crazy dog Why?
But he just didn't care
And kept chewing at Fred
This loony dog was eating him
The he swallowed dead Fred's head.
Poor Fred was now all gone
But this must have been his fate
To lose his life to a psycho dog
The poet Laurie ate.

poem by Kevin Halls
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Are You Down?

Danny: yo, jordan! whats up?
Jordan: hey danny! whats happening?
Oh, here comes little joey joe down the street
Joe: ho! whats happenin fellas?
Jordan: yo, theres jon, but has anyone seen donnie?
Danny: I dont know, but I thought I saw him walking towards the corner store.
Joe: nah, hes at the park playing ball
Jon: oh, here he comes now
(ad libbed greetings)
Donnie: hey guys!
Danny: where have you been?
Donnie: man, Ive got a story to tell!
All: hit it!
Donnie:
Saw a homegirl at the corner store
Eyes started bugging, mouth fell to the floor
She had a miniskirt and a sexy pose
I tried to rap to her, but I just froze
Tell me now fellas, what can I do?
To make a girl like me, like a girl likes you?
Danny:well homeboy get ready!
Joe: cause you want correcting
Jordan: cause a girl needs love
All: and plenty of affection
Jon: if a girl were mine, Id give her the world
Id buy her diamonds and pearls just to make her my girl
Jordan: that might work with your girl, but not with mine.
Shes not the type of girl to fall for any line
Joe: Id take her out to dinner, treat her like a winner
I may be young, but Im no beginner
Danny: all your ways are good, but not as good as mine
You have to be sincere for a girl that fine!
Chorus
Baby, wont you please be mine?
Are you down?
Baby, wont you please be mine?
Are you down? ho!
Danny: alright then, d., since you gave it a try
All: tell us about the girl who caught your eye
Donnie:
It was after school and I was feeling cool
til I saw that girl and I started to drool
So I thought to myself, take it easily
I couldnt let peer pressure get the best of me
I thought to myself, what should I do?
Thats when she came up on me and said i love you
Donnie: who me?
All: yeah, you!
Donnie: couldnt be!
All: but its true!

[...] Read more

song performed by New Kids On The Block
Added by Lucian Velea
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The wheels on the bus

‘The wheels on the bus
Go round and round
Round and round
Round and round
The wheels on the bus
Go round and round
Round and round
Round and round
All night long’

The driver on the bus goes
Rush rush rush
Rush rush rush
Rush rush rush
The driver on the bus goes
Rush rush rush
Rush rush rush
Rush rush rush
All night long

The children on the bus go
Wow wow wow
Wow wow wow
Wow wow wow
The children on the bus go
Wow wow wow
Wow wow wow
Wow wow wow
All night long

The fathers on the bus go
Blush blush blush
Blush blush blush
Blush blush blush
The fathers on the bus go
Blush blush blush
Blush blush blush
Blush blush blush
All night long

The mothers on the bus go
Hush hush shus
Hush hus hush
Hush hush
The mothers on the bus go
Hush hush hush
All night long

[...] Read more

poem by Miroslava Odalovic
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The French Dispatch

Cast: Timothee Chalamet, Saoirse Ronan, Lea Seydoux, Elisabeth Moss, Benicio Del Toro, Edward Norton, Cecile de France, Willem Dafoe, Tilda Swinton, Christoph Waltz

trailer for The French Dispatch, directed by Wes Anderson, screenplay by Wes Anderson (2020)
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Fingal - Book II

ARGUMENT.

The ghost of Crugal, one of the Irish heroes who was killed in battle, appearing to Connal, foretells the defeat of Cuthullin in the next battle, and earnestly advises him to make peace with Swaran. Connal communicates the vision; but Cuthullin is inflexible; from a principle of honor he would not be the first to sue for peace, and he resolved to continue the war. Morning comes; Swaran proposes dishonorable terms to Cuthullin, which are rejected. The battle begins, and is obstinately fought for some time, until, upon the flight of Grumal, the whole Irish army gave way. Cuthullin and Connal cover their retreat. Carril leads them to a neighboring hill, whither they are soon followed by Cuthullin himself; who descries the fleet of Fingal making towards their coast; but night coming on, he lost sight of it again. Cuthullin, dejected after his defeat, attributes his ill success to the death of Ferda, his friend, whom he had killed some time before. Carril, to show that ill success did not always attend those who innocently killed their friends, introduces the episode of Connal and Galvina.

Connal lay by the sound of the mountain-stream, beneath the aged tree. A stone, with its moss, supported his head. Shrill, through the heath of Lena, he heard the voice of night. At distance from the heroes he lay; the son of the sword feared no foe! The hero beheld, in his rest, a dark-red stream of fire rushing down from the hill. Crugal sat upon the beam, a chief who fell in fight. He fell by the hand of Swaran, striving in the battle of heroes. His face is like the beam of the setting moon. His robes are of the clouds of the hill. His eyes are two decaying flames.

Dark is the wound of his breast! "Crugal," said the mighty Connal, "son of Dedgal famed on the hill of hinds! Why so pale and sad, thou breaker of shields? Thou hast never been pale for fear! What disturbs the departed Crugal?" Dim, and in tears he stood, and stretched his pale hand over the hero. Faintly he raised his feeble voice, like the gale of the reedy Lego.

"My spirit, Connal, is on my hills; my course on the sands of Erin. Thou shalt never talk with Crugal, nor find his lone steps in the heath. I am light as the blast of Cromla. I move like the shadow of mist! Connal, son of Colgar, I see a cloud of death: it hovers dark over the plains of Lena. The Sons of green Erin must fall. Remove from the field of ghosts." Like the darkened moon he retired, in the midst of the whistling blast. "Stay," said the mighty Connal " stay, my dark-red friend. Lay by that beam of heaven, son of windy Cromla! What cave is thy lonely house? What green-headed hill the place of thy repose? Shall we not hear thee in the storm? in the noise of the mountain-stream? when the feeble Sons of the wind come forth, and, scarcely seen, pass over the desert?"

The soft-voiced Connal rose, in the midst of his sounding arms. He struck his shield above Cuthullin. The son of battle waked. "Why," said the ruler of the car, "comes Connal through my night? My spear might turn against the sound, and Cuthullin mourn the death of his friend. Speak, Connal; son of Colgar, speak; thy counsel is the sun of heaven!" "Son of Semo!" replied the chief, "the ghost of Crugal came from his cave. The stars dim twinkled through his form His voice was like the sound of a distant stream He is a messenger of death! He speaks of the dark and narrow house! Sue for peace, O chief of Erin!, or fly over the heath of Lena!"

"He spoke to Connal," replied the hero, "though stars dim twinkled through his form. Son of Colgar, it was the wind that murmured across thy car. Or if it was the form of Crugal, why didst thou not force him to my sight? Hast thou inquired where is his cave? the house of that son of wind? My sword might find that voice, and force his knowledge from Crugal. But small is his knowledge, Connal; he was here to-day. He could not have gone beyond our hills! who could tell him there of our fall?" "Ghosts fly on clouds, and ride on winds," said Connal's voice of wisdom. "They rest together in their caves, and talk of mortal men."

"Then let them talk of mortal men; of every man but Erin's chief. Let me be forgot in their cave. I will not fly from Swaran! If fall I must, my tomb shall rise amidst the fame of future times. The hunter shall shed a tear on my stone: sorrow shall dwell around the high-bosomed Bragéla. I fear not death; to fly I fear! Fingal has seen me victorious! Thou dim phantom of the hill, show thyself to me! come on thy beam of heaven, show me my death in thine hand! yet I will not fly, thou feeble son of the wind! Go, son of Colgar, strike the shield. It hangs between the spears. Let my warriors rise to the sound in the midst of the battles of Erin. Though Fingal delays his coming with the race of his stormy isles, we shall fight; O Colgar's son, and die in the battle of heroes!"

The sound spreads wide. The heroes rise, like the breaking of a blue-rolling wave. They stood on the heath, like oaks with all their branches round them, when they echo to the stream of frost, and their withered leaves are rustling to the wind! High Cromla's head of clouds is gray. Morning trembles on the half-enlightened ocean. The blue mist swims slowly by, and hides the Sons of Inis-fail!

"Rise ye," said the king of the dark-brown shields, "ye that came from Lochlin's waves. The sons of Erin have fled from our arms; pursue them over the plains of Lena! Morla, go to Cormac's hall. Bid them yield to Swaran, before his people sink to the tomb, and silence spread over his isle." They rose, rustling like a flock of sea-fowl, when the waves expel them from the shore. Their sound was like a thousand streams, that meet in Cona's vale, when after a stormy night, they turn their dark eddies beneath the pale light of the morn.

As the dark shades of autumn fly over the hills of grass, so gloomy, dark, successive came the chiefs of Lochlin's echoing woods. Tall as the stag of Morven, moved stately before them the king. His shining shield is on his side, like a flame on the heath at night, when the world is silent and dark, and the traveller sees some ghosts sporting in the beam! Dimly gleam the hills around, and show indistinctly their oaks! A blast from the troubled ocean removed the settled mist. The Sons of Erin appear, like a ridge of rocks on the coast; when mariners, on shores unknown, are trembling at veering winds!

"Go, Morla, go," said the king of Lochlin, "offer peace to these. Offer the terms we give to kings, when nations bow down to our swords. When the valiant are dead in war; when virgins weep on the field!" Tall Morla came, the son of Swaran, and stately strode the youth along! He spoke to Erin's blue-eyed chief, among the lesser heroes. "Take Swaran's peace," the warrior spoke, "the peace he gives to kings when nations bow to his sword. Leave Erin's streamy plains to us, and give thy spouse and dog. Thy spouse, high-bosomed heaving fair! Thy dog that overtakes the wind! Give these to prove the weakness of thine arm, live then beneath our power!"

"Tell Swaran, tell that heart of pride, Cuthullin never yields! I give him the dark-rolling sea; I give his people graves in Erin. But never shall a stranger have the pleasing sunbeam of my love. No deer shall fly on Lochlin's hills, before swift-footed Luäth." "Vain ruler of the car," said Morla, " wilt thou then fight the king? the king whose ships of many groves could carry off thine isle! So little is thy green-hilled Erin to him who rules the stormy waves!" " In words I yield to many, Morla. My sword shall yield to none. Erin shall own the sway of Cormac while Connal and Cuthullin live! O Connal, first of mighty men, thou hearest the words of Morla. Shall thy thoughts then be of peace, thou breaker of the shields? Spirit of fallen Crugal, Why didst thou threaten us with death? The narrow house shall receive me in the midst of the light of renown. Exalt, ye sons of Erin, exalt the spear and bend the bow; rush on the foe in darkness, as the spirits of stormy nights!"

Then dismal, roaring fierce and deep, the gloom of battle poured along, as mist that is rolled on a valley when storms invade the silent sunshine of heaven. Cuthullin moves before me in arms, like an angry ghost before a cloud, when meteors enclose him with fire; when the dark winds are in his hand. Carril, far on the heath, bids the horn of battle sound. He raises the voice of song, and pours his soul into the minds of the brave.

"Where," said the mouth of the song, "where is the fallen Crugal? He lies forgot on earth; the hall of shells is silent. Sad is the spouse of Crugal. She is a stranger in the hall of her grief. But who is she that, like a sunbeam, flies before the ranks of the foe? It is Degrena, lovely fair, the spouse of fallen Crugal. Her hair is on the wind behind. Her eye is red; her voice is shrill. Pale, empty, is thy Crugal now! His form is in the cave of the hill. He comes to the ear of rest; he raises his feeble voice, like the humming of the mountain-bee, like the collected flies of the eve! But Degrena falls like a cloud of the morn; the sword of Lochlin is in her side. Cairbar, she is fallen, the rising thought of thy youth! She is fallen, O Cairbar! the thought of thy youthful hours!"

Fierce Cairbar heard the mournful sound. He rushed along like ocean's whale. He saw the death of his daughter: he roared in the midst of thousands. His spear met a son of Lochlin! battle spreads from wing to wing! As a hundred winds in Lochlin's groves, as fire in the pines of a hundred hills, so loud, so ruinous, so vast, the ranks of men are hewn down. Cuthullin cut off heroes like thistles; Swaran wasted Erin. Curach fell by his hand, Cairbar of the bossy shield! Morglan lies in lasting rest! Ca-olt trembles as he dies! His white breast is stained with blood! his yellow hair stretched in the dust of his native land! He often had spread the feast where he fell. He often there had raised the voice of the harp, when his dogs leapt round for joy, and the youths of the chase prepared the bow!

Still Swaran advanced, as a stream that bursts from the desert. The little hills are rolled in its course, the rocks are half-sunk by its side. But Cuthullin stood before him, like a hill, that catches the clouds of heaven. The winds contend on its head of pines, the hail rattles on its rocks. But, firm in its strength, it stands, and shades the silent vale of Cona. So Cuthullin shaded the sons of Erin, and stood in the midst of thousands. Blood rises like the fount of a rock from panting heroes around. But Erin falls on either wing, like snow in the day of the sun.

O sons of Erin," said Grumal, "Lochlin conquers in the field. Why strive we as reeds against the wind? Fly to the hill of dark-brown hinds." He fled like the stag of Morven; his spear is a trembling beam of light behind him. Few fled with Grumal, chief of the little soul: they fell in the battle of heroes on Lena's echoing heath. High on his car of many gems the chief of Erin stood. He slew a mighty son of Lochlin, and spoke in haste to Connal. "O Connal, first of mortal men, thou hast taught this arm of death! Though Erin's Sons have fled, shall we not fight the foe? Carril, son of other times, carry my friends to that bushy hill. Here, Connal, let us stand like rocks, and save our flying friends."

Connal mounts the car of gems. They stretch their shields, like the darkened moon, the daughter of the starry skies, when she moves a dun circle through heaven, and dreadful change is expected by men. Sith-fadda panted up the hill, and Stronnal, haughty steed. Like waves behind a whale, behind them rushed the foe. Now on the rising side of Cromla stood Erin's few sad sons: like a grove through which the flame had rushed, hurried on by the winds of the stormy night; distant, withered, dark, they stand, with not a leaf to shake in the vale.

Cuthullin stood beside an oak. He rolled his red eye in silence, and heard the wind in his bushy hair; the scout of ocean came, Moran the son of Fithil "The ships," he cried, "the ships of the lonely isles. Fingal comes, the first of men, the breaker of the shields! The waves foam before his black prows! His masts with sails are like groves in clouds!" — "Blow," said Cuthullin, "blow, ye winds that rush along my isle of mist. Come to the death of thousands, O king of resounding Selma! Thy sails, my friend, are to me the clouds of the morning; thy ships the light of heaven; and thou thyself a pillar of fire that beams on the world by night. O Connal, first of men, how pleasing in grief are our friends! But the night is gathering around. Where now are the ships of Fingal? Here let us pass the hours of darkness; here wish for the moon of heaven."

The winds came down on the woods. The torrents rush from the rocks. Rain gathers round the head of Cromla. The red stars tremble between the flying clouds. Sad, by the side of a stream, whose sound is echoed by a tree, sad by the side of a stream the chief of Erin sits. Connal, son of Colgar, is there, and Carril of other times. "Unhappy is the hand of Cuthullin," said the son of Semo, "unhappy is the hand of Cuthullin since he slew his friend! Ferda, son of Damman, I loved thee as myself!"

"How, Cuthullin, son of Semo, how fell the breaker of the shields? Well I remember," said Connal, "the son of the noble Damman. Tall and fair, he was like the rainbow of heaven. Ferda from Albion came, the chief of a hundred hills. In Muri's hall he learned the sword, and won the friendship of Cuthullin. We moved to the chase together: one was our bed in the heath."

Deugala was the spouse of Cairbar, chief of the plains of Ullin. She was covered with the light of beauty, but her heart was the house of pride. She loved that sunbeam of youth, the son of the noble Damman. "Cairbar," said the white-armed Deugala, "give me half of the herd. No more I will remain in your halls. Divide the herd, dark Cairbar!" "Let Cuthullin," said Cairbar, "divide my herd on the hill.

His breast is the seat of justice. Depart, thou light of beauty!" I went and divided the herd. One snow-white bull remained. I gave that bull to Cairbar. The wrath of Deugala rose!

[...] Read more

poem by James Macpherson
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River Jordan

Im goin down to the river jordan
Im goin down to the river jordan
Im goin down to the river jordan
Im goin down to the river jordan
One of these days.
Im gonna sit at the welcome table
Im gonna sit at the welcome table
Im gonna sit at the welcome table
Gonna sit at the welcome table
One of these days.
Im gonna find that blessed salvation
Im gonna find that blessed salvation
Im gonna find that blessed salvation
Gonna find that blessed salvation
One of these days.
Im gonna walk and talk with jesus
Im gonna walk and talk with jesus
Im gonna walk and talk with jesus
Gonna walk and talk with jesus
One of these days.
Im gonna hold hands with my master
Im gonna hold hands with my master
Im gonna hold hands with my master
Im gonna hold hands with my master
One of these days.
Now Im goin down to the river jordan
Im goin down to the river jordan
Im goin down to the river jordan
Goin down to the river jordan
One of these days.

song performed by Janis Joplin
Added by Lucian Velea
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Negro Spirituals

IN DAT GREAT GITTIN’-UP MORNIN’

I ’M a gwine to tell you bout de comin’ ob de Saviour,—
Fare you well, Fare you well,
Dere ’s a better day a-comin’,
When my Lord speaks to his Fader,
Says, Fader, I ’m tired o’ bearin’,
Tired o’ bearin’ for poor sinners:
O preachers, fold your Bibles;
Prayer-makers, pray no more,
For de last soul’s converted.
In dat great gittin’-up Mornin’,
Fare you well, Fare you well.

De Lord spoke to Gabriel:
Say, go look behind de altar,
Take down de silver trumpet,
Go down to de sea-side,
Place one foot on de dry land,
Place de oder on de sea,
Raise your hand to heaven,
Declare by your Maker,
Dat time shall be no longer,
In dat great gittin’-up Mornin’, etc.

Blow your trumpet, Gabriel.
Lord, how loud shall I blow it?
Blow it right calm and easy,
Do not alarm my people,
Tell dem to come to judgment,
In dat great gittin’-up Mornin’, etc.

Gabriel, blow your trumpet.
Lord, how loud shall I blow it?
Loud as seven peals of thunder,
Wake de sleepin’ nations.
Den you see poor sinner risin’,
See de dry bones a creepin’,
In dat great gittin’-up Mornin’, etc.

Den you see de world on fire,
You see de moon a bleedin’,
See de stars a fallin’,
See de elements meltin’,
See de forked lightnin’,
Hear de rumblin’ thunder.
Earth shall reel and totter,
Hell shall be uncapped,
De dragon shall be loosened.
Fare you well, poor sinner.

[...] Read more

poem by Anonymous Americas
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When You Rush To Judgement

You have no idea,
What you've done.
You have no idea...
None.

You have no idea,
What you've done.
You have no idea...
Not a one.

Oh, oh, oh...
When you rush to judgement,
Your emotions are your worst enemy.
When you rush to judgement,
Your emotions are your worst enemy.
When you rush to judgement,
Your emotions are your worst enemy.
When you rush to judgement.
Oh, oh, oh...
When you rush to judgement.
To pass your judgements,
When you rush to judgement.

You have no idea,
What you've done.
You have no idea...
None.

You have no idea,
What you've done.
You have no idea...
Not a one.

When you rush to judgement,
You have no idea.
No idea.
None.
When you rush to judgement,
No one has an idea...
What they've done.
When you rush to judgement,
What one does...
Affects more than one.
When you rush to judgement.
When you rush to judgement.

You have no idea,
What you've done.
You have no idea...
None.

[...] Read more

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Dont Rush The Good Things

(n. gammack)
Producer: carter
Album: private dancer emi centenary edition (96)
B-side of the uk/ger whats love got to do with it single
Bought me a bottle of wine
Im gonna drink it tonight
And you can join me
Its gonna make us feel alright
Dont rush the good things
Dont rush the good things in life
Dont rush the good things
Dont rush the good things in life
Im gonna sip it slowly
Im not gonna rock it back
I am no historier but i
Ive learned from my past what Ive learned
Dont rush the good things
Dont rush the good things in life
Dont rush the good things
Dont rush the good things in life
Its a slow job falling in love
Its a slow job
Falling in love its a slow job
Dont rush good things tonight
You and me baby
No need to rush it tonight
Cause we got all the time in the world
Get it back, get it back
Get it back, get it back
Get it, get it, get it, get it
Dont rush the good things
Dont rush the good things in life
Dont rush the good things
Dont rush the good things in life

song performed by Tina Turner
Added by Lucian Velea
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Put a Sock In It

Put a sock in it,
Maybe this will rush a hush.
Put a sock in it,
Maybe this will rush a hush.
Put a sock in it,
Maybe this will rush a hush.
Today there is just too much stuff.
And people are getting fed up!

Put a sock in it,
Maybe this will rush a hush.
Put a sock in it,
Maybe this will rush a hush.
Put a sock in it,
Maybe this will rush a hush.
Today there is just too much stuff.
And people are getting fed up!

Many getting sick of the pickiness started.
And when it gets sticky they can not stop.
Instigating agitation with annoyance.
Dropping all they've got to tie a mind in knots.

Put a sock in it,
Maybe this will rush a hush.
Put a sock in it,
Maybe this will rush a hush.
Put a sock in it,
Maybe this will rush a hush.
Today there is just too much stuff.
And people are getting fed up!

Can't you see them strike poses and begin to 'cheese'.
Then plop on their knees,
To make their pleas.
These same folks cry about bad luck.
With claims their butts are stuck in ruts.

Put a sock in it,
Maybe this will rush a hush.
Put a sock in it,
Maybe this will rush a hush.
Put a sock in it,
Maybe this will rush a hush.
Today there is just too much stuff.
And people are getting fed up!

Put a sock in it,
Maybe this will rush a hush.
Folks have had enough,

[...] Read more

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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The Jolly Dead March

If I ever be worthy or famous—
Which I’m sadly beginning to doubt—
When the angel whose place ’tis to name us
Shall say to my spirit, ‘Pass out!’
I wish for no sniv’lling about me
(My work was the work of the land),
But I hope that my country will shout me
The price of a decent brass band.
Thump! thump! of the drum and ‘Ta-ra-rit,’
Thump! thump! and the music—it’s grand,
If only in dreams, or in spirit,
To ride or march after the band!
And myself and my mourners go straying,
And strolling and drifting along
With a band in the front of us playing
The tune of an old battle song!

I ask for no ‘turn-out’ to bear me;
I ask not for railings or slabs,
And spare me! my country—oh, spare me!
The hearse and the long string of cabs!
I ask not the baton or ‘starts’ of
The bore with the musical ear,
But the music that’s blown from the hearts of
The men who work hard and drink beer.

And let ’em strike up ‘Annie Laurie,’
And let them burst out with ‘Lang Syne’—
Twin voices of sadness and glory,
That have ever been likings of mine.
And give the French war-hymn deep-throated
The Watch of the Germans between,
And let the last mile be devoted
To ‘Britannia’ and ‘Wearing the Green.’

And if, in the end—more’s the pity—
There is fame more than money to spare—
There’s a van-man I know in the city
Who’ll convey me, right side up with care.
True sons of Australia, and noble,
Have gone from the long dusty way,
While the sole mourner fought down his trouble
With his pipe on the shaft of the dray.
But let them strike up ‘Annie Laurie,’ &c.

And my spirit will join the procession—
Will pause, if it may, on the brink—
Nor feel the least shade of depression
When the mourners drop out for a drink;
It may be a hot day in December,

[...] Read more

poem by Henry Lawson
Added by Poetry Lover
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Whoa Whoa Whoa Hush That Rush

Traveling with negative activities...
Hear them cuss a lot!
Yes, they cuss a lot.

Nothing that is said by them,
Seems to please.
And they cuss a lot.
Hear them cuss a lot!

No matter where they seem to be.
No matter in whose company.
Whoever is around them,
Never is quite free!
Or alone.

Traveling with negative activities...
Hear them cuss a lot!
Yes, they cuss a lot.

Nothing that is said by them,
Seems to please.
And they cuss a lot.
Hear them cuss a lot!

No matter where they seem to be.
No matter in whose company.
Whoever is around them,
Never is quite free!
Or alone.

No matter what the reason,
Or the season may be...
They rush to cuss,
With a lust to cuss!

Making misery as if a cup of tea.
They rush to cuss,
With a lust to cuss.

And dropping in the Autumn like leaves from trees.
They rush to cuss,
With a lust to cuss.

Traveling with negative activities...
Hear them cuss a lot!
Yes, they cuss a lot.

And dropping in the Autumn like leaves from trees.
They rush to cuss,
With a lust to cuss.

[...] Read more

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Paradise Regained

THE FIRST BOOK

I, WHO erewhile the happy Garden sung
By one man's disobedience lost, now sing
Recovered Paradise to all mankind,
By one man's firm obedience fully tried
Through all temptation, and the Tempter foiled
In all his wiles, defeated and repulsed,
And Eden raised in the waste Wilderness.
Thou Spirit, who led'st this glorious Eremite
Into the desert, his victorious field
Against the spiritual foe, and brought'st him thence 10
By proof the undoubted Son of God, inspire,
As thou art wont, my prompted song, else mute,
And bear through highth or depth of Nature's bounds,
With prosperous wing full summed, to tell of deeds
Above heroic, though in secret done,
And unrecorded left through many an age:
Worthy to have not remained so long unsung.
Now had the great Proclaimer, with a voice
More awful than the sound of trumpet, cried
Repentance, and Heaven's kingdom nigh at hand 20
To all baptized. To his great baptism flocked
With awe the regions round, and with them came
From Nazareth the son of Joseph deemed
To the flood Jordan--came as then obscure,
Unmarked, unknown. But him the Baptist soon
Descried, divinely warned, and witness bore
As to his worthier, and would have resigned
To him his heavenly office. Nor was long
His witness unconfirmed: on him baptized
Heaven opened, and in likeness of a Dove 30
The Spirit descended, while the Father's voice
From Heaven pronounced him his beloved Son.
That heard the Adversary, who, roving still
About the world, at that assembly famed
Would not be last, and, with the voice divine
Nigh thunder-struck, the exalted man to whom
Such high attest was given a while surveyed
With wonder; then, with envy fraught and rage,
Flies to his place, nor rests, but in mid air
To council summons all his mighty Peers, 40
Within thick clouds and dark tenfold involved,
A gloomy consistory; and them amidst,
With looks aghast and sad, he thus bespake:--
"O ancient Powers of Air and this wide World
(For much more willingly I mention Air,
This our old conquest, than remember Hell,
Our hated habitation), well ye know
How many ages, as the years of men,

[...] Read more

poem by John Milton
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A Woman Is A Sometime Thing

Jake
(to clara)
What, that chile aint asleep yet? give him to me.
Ill fix him for you.
(jake takes the baby from clara)
Lissen to yo daddy warn you,
fore you start a-travelling,
Woman may born you, love you and mourn you,
But a woman is a sometime thing,
Yes, a woman is a sometime thing.
Mingo
Oh, a woman is a sometime thing.
Jake
Yo mammy is the first to name you,
Then shell tie you to her apron string,
Then shell shame you and shell blame you
Till yo woman comes to claim you,
cause a woman is a sometime thing,
Yes, a woman is a sometime thing.
Sporting life
Oh, a woman is a sometime thing.
Jake
Dont you never let a woman grieve you
Jus cause she got yo weddin ring.
Shell love you and deceive you,
Take yo clothes and leave you
cause a woman is a sometime thing.
All
Yes, a woman is a sometime thing.
Yes, a woman is a sometime thing,
Yes, a woman is a sometime thing.
Jake
There now, what I tells you; hes asleep already.
(baby wails)
(men at crap game laugh).

song performed by Ella Fitzgerald
Added by Lucian Velea
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Jake

The boy gets crazy when he's sittin' at the bar
Don't you mess with Jake don't you push him to far
Rot gut whiskey and home made wine
Make a good country boy just lose his mind
Like a run away train rollin' through the night
The boy ain't got no fear
Like a race car hittin' the wall he gets hard to steer
Waitin' for the smoke to clear
OOOOHH
Betty got caught in the back of Bobby's car
Bobby got caught with his hand in the cookie jar
Her daddy blew a fuse and he went for his gun
EEEEE
Now Bobby and Betty thier on the run
Like a run away train rollin' through the nite
Nothin's gonna stop them now
Gotta keep on movin', coverin' tracks somehow
Like a run away train rollin' through the night
The kids ain't got no fear
Daddy's (wizz?) bang is the last sound Bobby's gonna hear
ooohhh
Waitin for the smoke to clear
Daddy finally caught him in the end of his gun
Put a dead end to all of Bobby's fun
OOhh
Good God almighty, Oh heaven sakes
Betty's Daddy turned out to be Jake
Like a run away train rollin' through the nite
Jake ain't got no fear
Know the hangman judge gonna give the boy 99 years
Here sits Jake at the back of this bar
Sippin' on a nice cold beer
If the law had a clue all they'd do is look right here
When they see Jake..... waitin' for the smoke to clear
Waitin for...OOOOHHHAAA

song performed by Lynyrd Skynyrd
Added by Lucian Velea
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Reaping

You want to know what's the matter with me, do yer?
My! ain't men blinder'n moles?
It ain't nothin' new, be sure o' that.
Why, ef you'd had eyes you'd ha' seed
Me changin' under your very nose,
Each day a little diff'rent.
But you never see nothin', you don't.
Don't touch me, Jake,
Don't you dars't to touch me,
I ain't in no humour.
That's what's come over me;
Jest a change clear through.
You lay still, an' I'll tell yer,
I've had it on my mind to tell yer
Fer some time.
It's a strain livin' a lie from mornin' till night,
An' I'm goin' to put an end to it right now.
An' don't make any mistake about one thing,
When I married yer I loved yer.
Why, your voice 'ud make
Me go hot and cold all over,
An' your kisses most stopped my heart from beatin'.
Lord! I was a silly fool.
But that's the way 'twas.
Well, I married yer
An' thought Heav'n was comin'
To set on the door-step.
Heav'n didn't do no settin',
Though the first year warn't so bad.
The baby's fever threw you off some, I guess,
An' then I took her death real hard,
An' a mopey wife kind o' disgusts a man.
I ain't blamin' yer exactly.
But that's how 'twas.
Do lay quiet,
I know I'm slow, but it's harder to say 'n I thought.
There come a time when I got to be
More wife agin than mother.
The mother part was sort of a waste
When we didn't have no other child.
But you'd got used ter lots o' things,
An' you was all took up with the farm.
Many's the time I've laid awake
Watchin' the moon go clear through the elm-tree,
Out o' sight.
I'd foller yer around like a dog,
An' set in the chair you'd be'n settin' in,
Jest to feel its arms around me,
So long's I didn't have yours.
It preyed on me, I guess,

[...] Read more

poem by Amy Lowell
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I Get A Rush

Every day of my life has been leading me here tonight
Feels like I'm coming home back to you, back to you
Every chance that I take
Every wrong turn and every mistake
Is a step on the road back to you
And I'm alive
Chorus:
I like it, I like it, I can't get enough
I like it, I like it, yeah, I get a rush
I like what I like and I like it too much
You know what I like, yeah, I get a rush
And my goal, I see you, you're as close as the hole in my shoe
And when I'm feeling used, I'm renewed, I get high
I can fly, I've got wings
I've got riches that money can't bring
I've got more than a king, I've got you
And baby, that's alright
Chorus:
I like it, I like it, I can't get enough
I like it, I like it, yeah, I get a rush
I like what I like and I like it too much
You know what I like, yeah, I get a rush
From you, everything you do
I call it love
Yeah, I get a rush, I get a rush
Every day of my life has been leading me here tonight
And wherever I roam I'm heading back home to you
Back to you
Chorus:
I like it, I like it, I can't get enough
I like it, I like it, yeah, I get a rush
I like what I like and I like it too much
You know what I like, yeah, I get a rush
I like it, I like it, I can't get enough
I like it, I like it, yeah, I get a rush
I like what I like and I like it too much
You know what I like, yeah, I get a rush
From you, everything you do
I call it love
Yeah, I get a rush, I get a rush from you

song performed by Bon Jovi
Added by Lucian Velea
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The Grooms Still Waiting At The Altar

Prayed in the ghetto with my face in the cement,
Heard the last moan of a boxer, seen the massacre of the innocent
Felt around for the light switch, became nauseated.
She was walking down the hallway while the walls deteriorated.
East of the jordan, hard as the rock of gibraltar,
I see the burning of the page, curtain risin on a new age,
See the groom still waitin at the altar.
Try to be pure at heart, they arrest you for robbery,
Mistake your shyness for aloofness, your shyness for snobbery,
Got the message this morning, the one that was sent to me
About the madness of becomin what one was never meant to be.
West of the jordan, east of the rock of gibraltar,
I see the burning of the stage,
Curtain risin on a new age,
See the groom still waitin at the altar.
Dont know what I can say about claudette that wouldnt come back to haunt me,
Finally had to give her up bout the time she began to want me.
But I know God has mercy on them who are slandered and humiliated.
Id a-done anything for that woman if she didnt make me feel so obligated.
West of the jordan, west of the rock of gibraltar,
I see the burning of the cage,
Curtain risin on a new stage,
See the groom still waitin at the altar.
Put your hand on my head, baby, do I have a temperature?
I see people who are supposed to know better standin around like furniture.
Theres a wall between you and what you want and you got to leap it,
Tonight you got the power to take it, tomorrow you wont have the power to
Keep it.
West of the jordan, east of the rock of gibraltar,
I see the burning of the stage, curtain risin on a new age,
See the groom still waitin at the altar.
Cities on fire, phones out of order,
Theyre killing nuns and soldiers, theres fighting on the border.
What can I say about claudette?
Aint seen her since january,
She could be respectably married or running a whorehouse in buenos aires.
West of the jordan, west of the rock of gibraltar,
I see the burning of the stage,
Curtain risin on a new age,
See the groom still waitin at the altar.

song performed by Bob Dylan
Added by Lucian Velea
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